Roxanna Lips
by NikiRadcliffe
Summary: For Puck's bachelor party, the guys decide to play a simple prank. Little do they know the history behind it. Future fic, Angst, Spoilers for a new episode, AU-ish, Sam/Puck.


**A/N: This is a quick Suck fic, written in about an hour and a half. Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I have no BETA at the moment.**

"And a special surprise for the special man!" Finn stuttered in a slightly hammered voice. He threw the blindfold in Puck's general direction before taking another swig of his beer. Puck laughed, stretching forward off the velvet couch and picking up the blindfold, attempting to tie it around his head.

"You could never do anything while drunk. Even the simplest of things…" Puck heard someone mutter, before Puck felt the blindfold leave his fumbling fingers and felt it secured around his head.

"Hey dude, it's one of my last nights as a free man, _man_!" Puck attempted to argue, but Kurt just shushed him and patted him on his head, brushing off the left over confetti from the other bar they had previously attended just an hour ago.

"So Puck," Blaine started, and Puck tilted his head in the direction of Blaine's voice. He was the only one sober in the group of Finn, Kurt, Mike, and Puck's other friends. His friends ranged from other factory workers at the plant, to his inmates at the county jail, where he spent a short amount of time for stealing Doritos from the local 7-11, being caught, and being found with the pot that caused him to have the unbearable want to steal the Doritos in the first place.

Blaine's voice had caused a chorus of whoops and hollers from his friends, with a lone catcall that Puck could only see as being from Kurt, but could've possibly been from Jerry, his inmate friend who once asked him if he was a catcher or a pitcher.

"Puck… we wanted to give you a, ah… _special_ surprise. So, we all got together and decided to buy you one of the most desired woman in all of Lima, Ohio," Someone started playing music in the background, something that reminded him of his ninth grade days and the sweet smell of chlorine, "So Puck, we present to you… _the_ Roxanna Lips!"

Music started playing at full blast, and Puck felt someone sit in his lap. He felt them start to move back and forth, before it hit Puck.

_Roxanna Lips_.

The most famous stripper in all of Lima, probably even Ohio. Legend says that she was once sent to the White House to give a private dance to the President by everyone in the cabinet. She's never confirmed of denied this fact, but when presented with this information, she muttered a sensual: '_Well, I can't say anything, but I can say that I __**love**__ America._'

The music seemed extra loud, his other senses heightened when he was blindfolded. _I see you winding and grinding up on that pole_, and Puck laughed, thinking about how the-future-Mrs. Puckerman would hate this song for it's crass lyrics. His sense of smell was heightened too, and could almost taste Roxanna Lips' perfume. It smelled like men's deodorant and roses, which really made Puck question to hygiene of Roxanna Lips. But he put that aside, as he was getting a lap dance by _the_ Roxanna Lips, and he wasn't going to complain about how she smelled when he could be enjoying this once in a lifetime opportunity.

She continued swirling in his lap, occasionally taking his hand and putting it in her hair, or down her stomach. Her hair was short, but felt soft and taken care of. Her stomach felt like it was ripped, however. Puck had to take a second to appreciate how much she valued the beauty of abs. That was something Puck always liked: abs.

When the song finished and Roxanna Lips finally got off of his lap, he clapped for her, as did everyone else in the group.

"Exhibitionists!" Puck yelled, but laughed a second later.

"Take your blindfold off, _dick_!" Mike said. Puck chuckled, the alcohol making everything seem funnier to him. Puck removed the blindfold and wiped at his eyes before removing his hands and getting acquainted with the dark colors of the private room. He looked to Finn and to Mike, who were doubled over laughing, and then to Kurt right next to them, who had one hand covering his mouth, trying and failing to keep his silent chuckles in.

And then Puck saw him.

Ms. Roxanna Lips, _the_ Roxanna Lips, the one who was just gyrating in his lap, was none other than _the_ Sam Evans.

Sam Evans, the boy who moved to Lima when he was a junior, and moved away the month before he entered his senior year.

Sam Evans, the one who told Puck that his mohawk was awesome on the first day they met, and asked if he could share his history book.

Sam Evans, the boy that Puck inescapably started to fall in love with, the boy that Puck had a relationship with for 8 months, the boy who Puck talked to about everything and anything.

Sam Evans, the boy who left with no explanation other than a poorly phrased text message that basically said: '_Sorry, bro_'.

It was like a flood of memories. Maybe it was alcohol-induced. Maybe it wasn't. But all of a sudden, Puck could only remember the cold days that Sam let him wear his hoodie, or those lost moments in the locker rooms after everyone left practice. Puck tried to shake his head clear of the images and scents and thoughts of Sam in high school. The smell of his cologne, the feel of his body next to him, the way he worded his sentences, even. Puck was still as whipped as he was when he was 17, and now that Sam was in front of himagain, he could feel it coming back. The feeling of wanting to be someone's _everything_, to be what they needed, whatever that might be.

Puck felt that familiar pang in his chest, the one that made his arms ache to hold something, and his face ache to be buried in the soft texture of a certain blonde-haired football player. He'd try to forget Sam, he really did. He went back to Quinn. He dated a teacher. He got engaged to a fellow worker. He was "happy", sure, but he wasn't really _happy_. Everything was just a cover up. Puck kept Sam's memory (and the hoodie and the pictures and even the notes they passed in chemistry) buried deep down in the depths of his mind and in his closet, making sure to close the door and close his heart to all blonde-haired, guppy faced boys he'd ever encounter again.

In all, about half a minute passed by, in which the boys continued laughing and spluttering, oblivious to Puck's mental evaluation of his life. Sam's eyes were shining, bright and blue and just like they looked when they were juniors and sitting in Puck's truck, where everything had started between them.

Puck got up from his chair, stumbling slightly as the world turned for just a second, and grabbed Sam's arm, leading out of the room and to the brightly lit hallway.

"What. Are. You. _Doing_?" Puck whispered. He seemed to have sobered up during the trip from the room to the hallway.

"What do you mean? I'm doing my _job_," Sam muttered, looking down and going to return to the room. Puck held onto Sam's arm, gripping tightly when Sam tried to move. Sam just grunted and broke free of his grasp.

"Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to collect my pay and leave. I have another party I need to be at tomorrow at 1, and it's almost 2 am now." Sam tried to leave again, but Puck just put his body in the way of the door.

"Why did you leave?" Puck asked. Sam didn't respond.

"Why did you leave us? Why did you leave _me_?" Puck's voice cracked as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. They were a side affect of too much alcohol and pent up repression.

"Because I had to get out, Puck. I had to leave. That town wasn't good for me." Sam stared at Puck, and the light bulb finally went off in Puck's head.

"Does that mean that… _I_ wasn't good enough for you?"

Just then, the rest of the boys spilled out of the room, Blaine in the lead with the others tripping behind them. Sam turned to Blaine, and grabbed the bills out of Blaine's hands, and stalked back into the room. His fleeting eyes met Puck's for a second, and Puck knew the answer to his question, but didn't want to accept it.

_No, you weren't good enough for me._

"Hey man, what's got you down? It was just a joke, you know." Finn said, walking up to Puck and putting his arms around his shoulders.

"I just," Puck sighed. "I just don't think I'm… drunk enough yet. On to the next bar?" A round of more whoops came from his group, as they lead him out of the stingy strip joint. Puck looked back through the front room before he left, at the girls spinning on poles for the men. He couldn't see Sam anywhere, so he left with his group, with the new goal of getting as plastered as possible, so he couldn't remember anything of what just happened.


End file.
